


Mansfield Perk

by shipatfirstsight



Category: Mansfield Park - All Media Types, Mansfield Park - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, F/M, Happy Ending, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 14:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17920880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipatfirstsight/pseuds/shipatfirstsight
Summary: Mansfield Perk hadn’t ever been his first choice for a coffee when he’d visited his sisters, but then he meets Fanny.





	Mansfield Perk

**Author's Note:**

> The name of Fanny's coffee place "Mansfield Perk" is a shameless Friends reference.

Mansfield Perk hadn’t ever been his first choice for a coffee when he’d visited his sisters, but he hasn’t seen his younger sister in weeks and her ‘punishment’ was that she got to pick where they would meet up. Henry hadn’t expected much from the little shop when he’d walked up to it, but stepping inside, he was pleasantly surprised. It was _small_ and cramped, but it felt more cozy than uncomfortable.

He’s already planning on visiting again while he waits for his coffee, eating the muffin he’d bought as he waits. He’d come back for the muffins alone, even if the coffee ending up being completely horrible, but somehow he doesn’t think it will be. The woman who had rung him up was preparing his coffee with quick, efficient movements. He takes the time to study the back of her; her hair is pulled back in a no-nonsense bun, but it highlights the graceful arch of her neck. He can’t quite remember what her face had looked like; he’d been studying the menu for his drink and then looking at the pastries, and he curses himself for not paying attention. Henry rather prides himself on his ever-growing collection of phone numbers from enamoured waitresses.

Henry smiles at her when she hands him his coffee, studying her quickly and deciding that she is very pretty indeed and that he would rather like to get her number, but she seems to carefully be avoiding his eyes before moving back to help the other customers. Thoughtfully, he makes his way to where his sister is waiting, turning back to look at the woman once he’s seated.

“Who’s caught your eye now, Henry?” Mary asks, catching his attention. One of her eyebrows is arched at him, a knowing smile on her lips. His sister, he thinks not for the first time, is too perceptive by half.

He tilts his head back towards the woman. “I smiled at her and she wouldn’t even look at me. I don’t think she likes me and I can’t think why.”

“Oh Henry, not everyone needs to be instantly charmed by your smile.”

He flashes that smile in her direction. “I _know_ that, Mary. It was the way she wouldn’t look at me that struck me.”

Mary lifts her own cup of coffee up to her lips. “I think she’s a smart girl to avoid your dubious charms.”

Henry laughs, turning back to look at the woman once more. “Still, it would be nice to get her to fall a little in love with me, don’t you think?”

She rolls her eyes at him before going into a rant about her current boyfriend. “And can you believe, he still wants to join the clergy! The _clergy_ Henry, like it’s the seventeen-fucking-hundreds. He’s not even religious its just a ‘family tradition’ or something! What even is that?”

“You know you don’t have to marry him right? You could go back to London and have men and women falling at your feet in an instant.”

With characteristic drama, she drapes herself across the table. “But he’s so _pretty_ and nice and _sweet_ . I’ve never dated anyone sweet. I _do_ want to marry him, Henry.”

They laugh and talk for a while before Mary cajoles him into going home with her to see their other sister. He gathers their cups first though, and brings them up to the counter. He waits until the woman notices him, smiling at her, unleashing the full force of his charm. “Where should I put these?” he nods towards the cups as he speaks, waiting for her to smile back, for her lashes to flutter at him, for her to bite her lip flirtatiously. _Any_ of the things he’s used to from women.

Silently, she reaches over the counter, taking the cups from his hand. Their fingers brush, just for a moment, but it sends a shock of awareness through him. He’s determined to get her to say something to him before he leaves, so he asks the first thing that comes to mind. “Listen, I haven’t visited here a lot, but I’m staying with my sisters. Do you know any fun things to do around here?” Henry lets just enough suggestion seep into his words that she’ll know he’s inviting her to do any of those fun things with him, but she’s already shaking her head no at him before he’s finished.

“No, sorry. I don’t do a lot, and I probably don’t do anything _you’d_ think is fun.” Her voice is soft and low, and he has to lean forward just a little to clearly catch all her words over the general din of the cafe. Still, the censure in the way she’s said _you’d_ was unmistakable. He’s almost positive that he’s never seen this woman before in his life, and still her words had sounded like she knew him personally. And his every sin.

He smiles at her anyway. “You might be surprised.”

“Probably not,” she returns quickly, clearly gearing to move away from him.

“Well, I love reading. Any book shops around here?” It is honest, at least. He hasn’t really had time to read much of anything in months, but he did still love reading when he could.

Her eyes light with surprise, and he feels a twinge of victory. She tells him the name of her favourite shop, even blurting out the title of the book she’s currently reading. He leaves, sure of his eventual victory.

* * *

 

“That woman could be made of stone,” he complains to Mary two weeks later as they sit in the cafe once more. They’re next to each other this time, watching the confident movements of the woman. He’s made no progress, nothing, except for being able to figure out her name. _Fanny_ ; it seemed to suit her somehow.  He’s gone to the coffee shop every day, reading the book she recommended, trying to get her to say a quick hello to him or smile at him in greeting, her new regular, but she never does. And it’s not just him, either; she treats almost all of her customers exactly the same. All the same, she interested him more than he thought she was was going to. He wanted more time to get to know her; he no longer knows what his endgame is.

“Just because she doesn’t like you?”

“When was the last time a woman didn’t like me, Mary?” he quips. “But it’s not just me. She shows no emotion about anything. That horrible woman, what’s her name? Mrs. Norris. Mrs. Norris came in the other day, ordered something, and then spent fifteen minutes berating her about everything from the prices to the font size on the menus to the way the coffee tasted. And Fanny’s face never changed, not once. She just stood there and took it.”

Mary shudders visibly. “Ghastly woman. She’s Edmund’s aunt, did you know?”

“God, no. I can’t imagine having to spend any amount of time with her.” He pats his sister’s hand sympathetically across the table. “One more point against that fiancé of yours.”

She elbows him in the ribs. “What’d you do when Norris was being her lovely, critical self?”

“Nothing, why would I do anything?” he asks, turning to look at her.

She rolls her eyes at him, huffing through her nose. “You could have marched in and saved the day. Then you’d be Fanny’s--” here she pauses, gesturing toward Fanny herself, “knight in shining armour, defending her from evil old ladies.”

“Damn,” he mutters, under his breath, “I wish I’d thought of that.”

* * *

 

It’s dead silent the next time he enters Mansfield Perk. There’s people, sure, but they’re all starring in horror at Mrs. Norris, huffing angrily, and Fanny. Her white shirt is stained with coffee, he can see, and for a moment he thinks Norris has thrown coffee at the woman and the thought fills him with unexpected anger. But no, there’s no cup in her hand, and he can see the machine behind Fanny hissing angrily. In quick strides, Henry is before the counter.

Later, he’ll tell his sister and himself that he had simply remembered her words and decided to play the knight in an effort to win Fanny over to add to him list of conquests. But, later than that, he’ll admit to himself that there had been no thought to his driving need to comfort and help.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning over the counter, ignoring Norris completely in favour of Fanny.

Her eyes dart between him and the woman. “I’m s-sorry, sir. The machine’s not w-working right now. I-I’m afraid t-that you’ll have to wait for your coffee.”

He’s not used to her being anything but quiet and competent. This stammering uncertainty is so...unsettling.

Before he can say anything, Mrs. Norris snorts, rudely. “It is hardly my problem, Fanny, that you’re incompetent. Now I asked for a drink, and you will give me one and I don’t care about excuses.”

“I-I _can’t--”_

He cuts in, smiling at her in reassurance. “Can I take a look at the machine? I’m a little handy. I’m sure Mrs. Norris will be willing to wait while we sort this all out?” He turns his gaze to the other woman, never letting the smile fall from his face. She snorts again, but turns and seats herself at a table.

Fanny nods, albeit rather reluctantly, and he can only guess desperation is what causes her to lead him to the entrance to the area behind the counter. He’s forced to admit, embarrassingly fast, that he has no idea how to fix an industrial coffee machine, but by then Fanny has calmed enough to take over. She gives him a few instructions, her hands darting around, and then, as if by magic, the machine is sputtering away in its usual way.

“Thank you for your help, sir,” she whispers finally, without looking up at him.

“Henry,” he says back. She looks at him, a furrow to her brow. “My name’s Henry. I already know your name, so it only seems fair you should know mine as well.” She doesn’t acknowledge or agree, but when she hands him his coffee and meets his eyes for once, he can’t help but feel that he’s made a little progress.

* * *

“He doesn’t remember me, Susan,” Fanny says by way of greeting when her sister answers her phone, “He introduced himself and everything. Before, I thought he remembered but didn’t want to admit it, but _now_ …”

“Who?” Susan interrupts a shade impatiently. Fanny feels a twinge of guilt. Her sister’s going to university, and she’s so proud of her, but Susan is also working, and Fanny knows she’s tired and overloaded.

“Sorry, Sue. Henry Crawford. He just came strolling in one day and smiling like he did _nothing_ wrong, and now he goes and introduces himself to me.”

“It was three years ago, Fanny,” her sister reminds her, “And you look so much better now. Healthier since Will forced Uncle Thomas to take you to the doctor.”

“It wasn’t Uncle Thomas’ fault--” Fanny starts to protest, but her sister cuts in.

“Yes it was, Fanny. I know you don’t want to seem ungrateful after all they’ve done for you, but they really should have taken better care of you all along. All your exhaustion and health issues were just because of an iron deficiency for god’s sake!”

“Sue--”

“Oh, come on. Cursing is sometimes understandable, especially when I love you, and I was worried about you. Anyway, Henry probably doesn’t remember you because one, you look so much different and two, he was fixated on our cousins. You said he didn’t seem to care for anything outside of conquering them.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem. I think he’s decided to conquer me.”

There’s a slight pause, and then her sister’s tinkling laugh. “Give him a run for his money, Fan. Listen, I gotta go to my next class, but we’ll talk later right?”

Fanny takes her time closing up her shop. It’s not much, she knows, but it’s hers, and everyone seems to like it. She’s going to have to hire some additional help soon with all the business she’s been getting; she’s not sure she can handle it all on her own anymore. It’s a good thing, she knows, but...this isn’t really her dream. It’s good for now, though, and she’s helping Susan get through university. She can always figure out what she really wants to do later.

Henry Crawford is an unwelcome surprise. Despite him apparently forgetting all about her, she’s never forgotten him. He’s never been a handsome man, but he has a certain charm that she knows makes women come easily to him. At least the ones he deemed pretty enough for his notice.

She knows that’s not entirely fair. Susan was right; the summer he had spent with his older sister had been a particularly bad one for Fanny. Uncle Thomas had to travel to the states to handle something with one of his businesses, and Aunt Norris had been the one most in charge since Aunt Maria wasn’t very well either. Aunt Norris had sent her on chore after chore till all she could do at the end of the day was collapse on her bed in exhaustion. Edmund, her usual defender, had been distracted by Mary Crawford, and there had been times when Fanny felt Aunt Norris was the only one who remembered she was there. Maria and Julia never really paid her much notice either, but they were too busy fighting over Henry to notice anything more wrong than usual.

She’d sunk into the background. She knew no one would really miss her, and she wanted Aunt Norris to be like the rest of them and forget about her just so she could have a bit of a break. They’d all gone out to clubs and parties, never bothering to ask if she wanted to come. A part of her had been disappointed in Edmund for joining in with them--they’d promised each other to _never_ be _those_ kind of people. But, she couldn’t really begrudge him his happiness, even if she didn’t particularly care for Mary herself. There must be something good in her, Fanny can remember thinking, if Edmund cares about her.

Henry she felt completely justified in disliking. Maria was _supposed_ to marry James Rushworth that September, but between Henry’s overt flirting, Maria returning the flirting, and James’ insecurities, their relationship had fallen apart. Julia, too, had been heartbroken when Henry had left at the end of the summer, no doubt returning to wherever he had come from to break even more hearts along the way. Though Fanny was forced to admit that it was probably a good thing Maria and James hadn’t ended up getting married. They’d both been so young, really too young for marriage, she’d always thought, and so ill-suited for each other. But still, she knew that Henry’s goals hadn’t been to save her cousin from a bad marriage, but to serve his own selfish ego-trip.

Edmund and Mary’s relationship had cooled for a little while after all of that, but Fanny had a feeling that they’d find their way back to each other eventually. She’d been the least surprised when they’d told the family that they were getting married. She’d known then that Henry Crawford would come back into their lives. Julia had eloped herself in the three years since the whole debacle and was gallivanting with her actor-husband. Maria had turned out alright, as well, choosing to stay mostly single and write plays in London. Fanny was relieved they weren’t here to see Henry again; she’d always suspected that both of her cousins had been at least a little bit in love with him. She’d wondered for a while if either of them had slept with him, before figuring it really wasn’t any of her business, and that she really didn’t want to know. It was enough for her that he’d hurt the both of them with his carelessness.

So it didn’t really matter if Henry Crawford didn’t recognise or remember her or whatever, she remembered him. And she wasn’t going to give him the slightest chance to hurt her in the same way.

* * *

Mary insists that Henry join her and her fiancé for dinner. “It’s a family thing and I always feel so outnumbered,” she cajoles until he agrees.

“As if you couldn’t take them all,” he teases, anyway, even though he knows very well that he’ll be going to the dinner with her.

“Mrs. Norris,” is all she says, and he’s forced to agree at that.

“Yes, I can’t very well leave you to face _her_ without backup,” laughing, he squeezes her shoulder with brotherly affection. “Of course I’ll come, Mary. I’m going to have to spend more time with Edmund’s family in the future anyway.”

To say he’s shocked to see Fanny at a family dinner would be putting it mildly. Briefly, he wonders if she’s dating the older brother, Tom, but no. He can see the resemblance between her and her two male relatives, now that she’s standing beside them. Mary drags him over to the little group.

“Edmund, Tom, you remember Henry, right?” and then she’s latching onto Fanny’s arm and dragging her off.

Later, when he catches his sister alone, he pulls her a little to the side. “Is she another sister?”

“Their cousin, but she’s lived with them for most of her life. Which _you_ should know since she was here that first summer we came here.”

Vaguely, he remembers a mousy little thing from that summer. She hadn’t been pretty then, though; she’d looked sickly, and her cousins had supported his thoughts. He remembers that she’d never gone anywhere with them and that he couldn’t remember her saying two words to him for all the months they were in close contact.

“Why didn’t you remind me?” he hisses in Mary’s ear, feeling his ears heat.

“And ruin the surprise?” she whispers back archly, laughing lightly, “and miss that look on your face? It’s not my fault you didn’t recognize her.” And then, to make matters worse she raises her voice and calls, “Fanny,” signaling her over with a wave of her hand.

Fanny comes, turning her whole focus onto Mary. “What’s up?”

“I was just telling Henry that you’ve agreed to be my bridesmaid. He’ll be the one who walks you down the aisle, so _I_ thought it’d be nice if you two got to know each other a little better before the big day.” That said, she darts off to her finacé’s side.

Henry clears his throat awkwardly, trying--and failing--to catch her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he finally whispers.

That, it seems, is the surprise needed to force her eyes to meet his. “For what?”

He laughs without any humour. “For not recognising you. I mean, you look so much bett--I mean different than you looked then and I just didn’t--”

“It’s fine,” she interrupts. “I figured out you didn’t remember me when you reintroduced yourself the other day.”

“God, you must think that I’m an unobservant prick,” he bursts out. “I mean you still look like _you_. I should have been able to tell.”

“I’m sure it would be hard to notice anyone else when you already had two girls after you,” she says, rather wryly, though there is a pleasant blush to her cheeks. “Can we just change the subject? It doesn’t really matter anymore.”

He feels like he should say that it _does_ matter. It seems like she expects people to forget about her, or consign her to the background. And he had. But, “That book you recommended was really great.”

Her eyes light up, and she starts discussing the book animatedly with him, finishing with, “Her new book just came out. I’m reading it right now, and it’s really good.”

“I’ll have to pick up a copy. I forgot how much I like reading.” He leans back against the wall as he talks, pleased when she moves with him.

“You can borrow my copy. When I’m done, I mean. It shouldn’t take me that much longer.”

Henry, unwilling to pass up that opportunity--she’ll have to get him the book after all, and he’ll have to return it to her--agrees readily. “I can always buy a my own copy if I like it.”

They talk about books for a little while longer until Mrs. Norris calls her over. Henry manages to sit next to her once they settle down to eat. She smiles at him once, and it lights her up from the inside out. He hadn’t even been trying to get any reaction out of her, he’d just turned toward her when her mouth had opened as though she was going to say something. No one else had noticed, but his notice was enough to win a smile out of her. It warms something in him he hadn’t thought existed. All he wants is to make her smile again and again and again for as long as he can.

* * *

 The next time he’s at the cafe, someone new is at the counter, and he fights a twinge of disappointment. The coffee is just as good as usual, though, so he knows he can’t really complain. He was hoping to at least _see_ Fanny, though. He opens the book he brought with him, settling in to read when the chair across from his is pulled out. He looks up to find Fanny seating herself and pulling a book out of her bag.

“This is for you,” she says without ceremony, pushing it towards him.

He takes her offering, seeing it’s the book she was telling him about, thanking her softly. “You’re not working today?”

She shakes her head. “I finally gave in and hired someone new,” she sighs, glancing back at the counter. “I wanted to catch you though.”

“Do you own the place then?” he asks with some surprise. He looks at the place with new eyes, seeing the things that make it so _her_.

Fanny pushes her hair out of her eyes, blushing a little. “Yeah,” she answers, a note of pride entering her voice. “My aunts and my uncle gave me the start-up money, obviously, but it’s all mine now. I’ve managed to pay them back.”

He decides not to comment on that last bit, but smiles as her anyway. “I’m sure you already know this, but this place is great.”

When she smiles at him, she _beams_. “Thank you. It’s been a lot of hard work, but I’ve enjoyed it.”

“Was it open when I was here last?”

“No, I had plans for it, but I only opened two years ago.” She hasn’t stopped smiling yet; his heart feels full to bursting.

“Why ‘Mansfield Perk’?” He leans toward her as he asks, surprised and pleased when she leans forward a little as well.

“It’s what my uncle’s house was called. Well, Mansfield Park, but you know. I had to pick a name and it seemed sort of clever and a way to thank them for their help.” Fanny trails off with a laugh.

“It’s a great name,” he curses himself inwardly for how eager he sounds, but he can’t seem to help it.

They talk for a while again, him asking her questions about the cafe and other books that she likes. Henry realizes after a while has passed that he’s never done _this_ before. Never just talked to a woman without thinking of where it could lead, never just enjoyed the conversation for the conversation. He starts to keep a count of how many times he makes her smile (ten times) and how many times he makes her laugh (three times), storing them up in his mind as the precious treasures that they are.

Henry is perfectly aware that he’s a little in love with her by the time he leaves. He’s also more aware that he doesn’t have a shot in hell of her ever feeling the same way towards him. Probably. God, but what if she could, he can’t help but wonder. 

* * *

Fanny finds herself drifting more and more towards his table when he stops buy. For the first time, she understands how he’d tempted both Maria and Julia. He’s charismatic and charming, his whole attention focused on her. She enjoys talking to him, she finds, which is not something she would have thought possible three years ago. Of course, they don’t always talk. Sometimes, they just sit together, both of them reading.

She hadn’t quite believed him that first day when he’d asked for the bookstore that she went to. She’d been pleasantly surprised. He asked thoughtful questions about the books they’d traded, and she’d enjoyed all of his suggestions so far. They’d even gone to the bookstore together once or twice, pointing out favourites and laughing when they both pointed to the same ones. He had a small tendency to point out raunchy books that she would never dream of acknowledging, though she had read a couple of the ones he had read. Personally, she thinks he does it because he seems to like to make her blush; she’s caught him smiling almost to himself whenever she feels that oh so familiar blush stain her cheeks.

“Why does he have to be so...so….”

“Intelligent? Fun? _Handsome_?” Susan suggest helpfully over the phone.

" _Charming_ ,” Fanny sighs out. She hadn’t wanted this. She _still_ didn’t want it. “It’s probably still a game to him, Sue.”

“So? Kiss him. Date him. Take him home and have a good time. Have a little fun. Live a little,” Susan teases, her voice rising above the background noise.

“ _Sue_ ,” she laughingly protests. “I could never.”

“You should,” Susan says, her voice growing more serious. “You seem to really like him. He’s all you’ve been able to talk about for weeks.”

“No. I can’t, Sue. I--I could very easily fall right in love with him. And he’ll never feel that way about me.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Consider the evidence, Sue.”

“Is this still because of Maria and Julia? That was years ago, Fan. It was just a little flirting.”

“You weren’t here. He broke their hearts. I could never be with him. I can’t do that to them.”

“Fanny Price, they seem perfectly happy now. They were young. And so was he. It seems to me like you’re just scared to give him a chance.”

The tears she feels pricking the back of her eyes are her best indication that her sister is right. And she hates it. “I’ve gotta go, Sue.”

“Oh, Fanny,” Susan protests, “Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, Sue, I just need some time to think and I’m late for dinner.”

“You’ll think about what I said then?”

She agrees, but she knows it’s a lie. The last thing she wants to do is think about this conversation when she’s going to another family dinner. It’s probably too much to hope that Henry won’t be there tonight.

* * *

Henry makes a beeline for Fanny as soon as he walks in the door. “Okay, this book was so good,” he says handing the book he’d borrowed back to her. “I stayed up until four this morning to finish it, and I’ve thought about it all day.”

She takes the book back from him, setting it on the shelf behind her. “Thanks.”

He leans toward her, concerned. “Is something wrong, Fanny?”

“Just tired,” she answers, shaking her head. “It’s been a...long day.”

“Everything good with the cafe?”

“Yeah, yeah, just you know, tired.”

He nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He feels like he’s gone back about a hundred steps with her and he can’t for the life of him figure out why. “If you ever need anything…” he lets the words trail off.

“I’m fine, really,” she smiles, but it’s nowhere near the usual expression on her face. “Don’t worry about me.”

Henry swallows. _I’ll always worry about you_ , is right on the tip of his tongue, but somehow he sense that she won’t take the words right. He wants to comfort her. He wants to hold her. He swallows again. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure, white wine please.”

He can’t help but think she seems to be relieved to see him go. He glances back at her as he gets their drinks, but she’s not looking at him. She’s not looking at anything. No one seems to notice her, but he does. He sees her hand lift up and wipe something away from her eye.

He’s making her miserable, he realizes. He tosses back his drink, pouring another one. He sighs before making his way back to her, giving her the glass of wine and quickly excusing himself. He’s not quite sure what he tells her, but he finds himself making his way over to his sister, happy to find her alone.

“Foiled in love?” she asks sympathetically, though there is a teasing note to her voice.

“I don’t know what I did. We had...it just seemed like we were becoming friends. And now it seems like she doesn’t want to talk to me again.”

Mary pats his arm. “Maybe she’s just having an off day?”

“Yeah, maybe,” he agrees without any real hope. He doesn’t know what he did, but he’s sure that he had to have done something.

“You could always asks her.” She nods her head in Fanny’s general direction. “Or you could go back over there and just...be with her.”

He looks incredulously from his sister back to Fanny. She’s still alone, looking like she’s trying to blend into the wallpaper. Without saying anything back to Mary, he strides over to Fanny. “Sorry about that, had to ask Mary something.”

She waves her hands at him. “It’s not a problem, I understand. I was almost late tonight because I was talking to my sister.”

It’s all the opening he needs. He can tell from her tone how much she cares about her sister, and he soon draws her into conversation about her siblings. It’s not quite as easy as their conversations have gotten lately, but it’s something. He’s relieved that not everything seems completely lost, though he looks at her from time to time out of the corner of his eye; he still feels worried about her.

“Hey,” she calls, when he and Mary are getting ready to leave. He walks over to her as he puts on his jacket, smiling at her, trying to reassure her and whatever her worries are. “Sorry about before..”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says when she trails off and doesn’t seem to have any intention of continuing. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I was just worried about you.”

He sees the unmistakable sheen of tears in her eyes, before she casts them downwards. “Thank you,” she chokes out, then dashes from the room before he can stop her. He follows, filled with concern. “Fanny?”

“Oh!” She spins around, dashing at the tears on her face. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

He nods, reaching for her hand, squeezing it gently. “You can talk to me if you need to, if you want to. Any time.”

“Thank you,” she breathes, squeezing his hand back. “It’s fine, really. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I want to,” he assures her. Henry hardly thinks that enough people worry about her. From what he knows about her, she seems to be the one doing the majority of the worrying about everyone. He’d be happy to be the one to worry about her. “I mean it. You can tell me anything.”

“Thank you, Henry,” she says with her first real smile of the night. “It’s really fine, but thank you.”

Fanny is back to mostly-normal by the next day, sitting across from him and handing him a new book. He pushes a book towards her as well. “An old favourite,” he explains.

“Thanks,” she says with a grin, tucking the book into her bag. She doesn’t mention the night before, and he decides to follow her lead. “You’re a good friend,” she says just in passing at one point and that...that is more than he’d hoped.

He can be her friend. It’s enough for now, and if it’s all she can give him, it will be enough for a long time. He’s never been in love before, and it’s hard. All he wants to do is kiss her. But this, this is amazing too, more than he’s ever had before. He won’t think about how much he loves her, he decides. He’ll be her friend. Just her friend.

* * *

“He’s different,” she complains the next time she talks to Susan. “He hasn’t flirted with me in days.”

“I thought you didn’t want him to flirt with you.”

“I thought I didn’t, but I sort of miss it.”

“Oh Fanny. Maybe you should just talk to him?”

She groans in defeat. “I can’t talk to him about this! It’s embarrassing. Besides, maybe he decided he didn’t like me that way or something. Or maybe he just likes me as a friend. It’s good. I’m glad he doesn’t want to play that game with me anymore.”

“But you still want him to flirt with you, even just a little.” Susan points out, and it’s not a question.

She groans again. “Maybe, just a little. I don’t know, Sue. Even if he does like me that way, he hardly seems like the dating only one girl type of guy.”

“You can’t really know that. Don’t be afraid, Fan. I know you didn’t like to hear it last time, but maybe for once seize something that you really want.”

“It’s not that easy, Sue.”

“Just promise me that you’ll think about it? And mean it this time, Fanny.”

“Alright, I promise to _think_ about it, but that’s all.”

Her sister sighs. “I guess that is what I asked for.”

Fanny can’t help the smile that comes across her face when Henry walks into the cafe and finds her instantly with his eyes, waving and going to the counter to order. Just friends, she coaches herself. Really, she tries to convince herself, it’s all she wants with him. It’s all she _should_ want with him, anyway.  

* * *

 It’s harder than he would have thought, to be _just_ friends with her as he feels himself falling more and more in love with her with every coffee and every shared book. Mary tells him more than once that he’s being ridiculous, that he should just ask her out already.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” she asks after one such long debate.

“She could say no. No, no, I know she’ll say no. I’d rather be in her life at this point than have _that_.”

“I know you’ve never been rejected before, Henry, but you’ll survive.”

He sighs, throwing his head back against the seat. “It’s not that. I don’t know how I’d ever face her again. Or if she’d want to ever see me again after that. I don’t want to have to lose her.”

“The two of you are absolutely being ridiculous,” she throws her arms up in defeat. “So what, you’re never going to say anything about your feelings so you can never lose her? What if she does like you?”

He rolls his eyes as her. “C’mon, Mary. If you were her--and not my sister--there’s no way in hell you’d ever go for a guy like me.”

“You won’t really know until you try,” she says in a singsong tone. “Fanny might surprise you.”

All he can do is shake his head. He doesn’t count on his sister’s stubborn insistence on being right, though. The first sign of her horrible interference is Mrs. Norris glaring at him and muttering something about _Julia_ being the perfect woman for him and how she can’t imagine what he could possibly see in a girl like Fanny. He pretends not to hear, though his fists clench and unclench until he calms down a little. Then there’s Edmund, and Edmund’s father, and Tom, all smirking and winking every time he so much as looks at Fanny.

Fanny can tell what they’re doing too, he knows. She blushes every time she notices their glances. She starts to stammer out her replies to him, and he starts to glare at Mary every time it happens.

“Tell Edmund--and tell him to tell his father and brother--to knock it off. They’re making Fanny uncomfortable.” He hisses at his sister. He’s just spent a very uncomfortable ‘last minute wedding meeting breakfast’ growing more and more upset over Fanny’s obvious embarrassment. Her uncle had come up to them, wondering aloud if there would be another wedding in their future soon.

“Oh Henry, why don’t you use them. Maybe _they_ can talk her into giving you a chance.”

“ _No_ , Mary. God, what was it you said about the seventeen-fucking-hundreds? Edmund seems to be rubbing off on you.”

Henry makes his way back to Fanny after his sister promises to talk to Edmund and get them to back off. “Sorry about all that before,” he says, “I hope they didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Shaking her head, she gives him a small smile. “Don’t worry about it, Henry.”

“You’re always telling me not to worry,” he laughs as he says it, but his heart clenches. _Let me worry_ , he wants to say, not for the last time, or he suspects for the last time, _I want to worry about things that upset you._

She laughs a little. “That’s because I mean it. You shouldn’t have to worry about me. I’m sorry if they made _you_ uncomfortable, though,” she finishes quickly, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing. “I know you probably don’t believe in marriage and whatever, and, I mean--we’re not even dating. I don’t even know where they’d get that idea.”

“Don’t believe in marriage?” he asks incredulously. He’s forced to admit that before he’d met her again, he’d never given any thought to marriage at all. Sure, he doesn’t think she would ever want to be with him either, but if she did, as she sometimes _did_ in his best dreams, he would marry her as soon as she let him. As soon as she wanted it.

“You don’t seem the type,” she defends in a small kind of voice.

He closes his eyes, sighing deeply. “I might be,” he can’t stop himself from saying. “With the right woman.” _With you._

Fanny looks at him, the surprise clear on her face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck, pausing to consider his next words. “I mean, I’ve done the whole ‘sleeping with random women’ thing and I’ve sort of outgrown it. My uncle, the one who raised Mary and me, didn’t believe in marriage, but I still remember my parents a little. They loved each other so much. I guess...I guess I’ve always kinda wanted what they had. Someday.”

She doesn’t say anything for a long time, her expression one of deep thought. He just stands there, helpless to say anything else or leave. “I--wow. I’m sorry, I sort of just assumed. It probably wasn’t fair, but after the whole Maria and Julia _thing_.”

“Damn,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes. “I’d forgotten about that.” A sudden thought stops him cold. “I did _not_ sleep with either of them.” He regrets the words as soon as he says them, but...he’d never have any chance with her if she thought that.

Her cheeks flame red, and she averts her eyes from him. “That’s...good to know.” She turns back to him. “I did wonder. After. I figured it wasn’t really any of my business, though.”

Fanny changes the subject before he can say anything else; he’s relieved, but there’s a part of him that wanted to continue their other conversation. See if it led naturally to a place where it would be okay for him to ask her out to dinner. To see where things could go with them. It’s fine, he reminds himself. They slip back into easy conversation and nothing seems ruined. It’s a relief, and he does his best to shield her from the still far too sly looks that her male cousins and uncle are sending her way.

Henry does admit, later, in his own room, that Mary might, _might_ , possibly be right. Maybe he should have a completely and totally honest conversation with the woman he loves.

* * *

“Okay,” she admits to Susan, “I might possibly, _possibly,_ see a future with him.”

Susan’s only reply is to squeal loudly in her ear.

“Was that completely necessary, Sue?” she asks.

“Yes, obviously. He’s basically all you’ve been able to talk about since he came back. He sounds like he really cares about you. I for one can’t wait to meet him at the wedding.”

Fanny groans, loudly. “God, I forgot about that. It’s bad enough that Edmund, Tom, and Uncle Thomas all seem to know that I might be just a little bit attracted to him. The last thing I need is you joining in and giving us sly looks too.”

* * *

Walking with Fanny on his arm up the aisle feels so incredibly _right_. She looks beautiful in her bridesmaid’s dress, and whatever’s been done with her hair...though he’d probably be attracted to her no matter what at this point. He knows he should be paying attention to the wedding, but he can’t tear his eyes away from Fanny. At one point, she looks toward him and notices him looking at her, and she doesn’t look away. A blush does colour her cheeks, and she gives him that smile. Henry is forced to admit to himself that he goes a little weak in the knees seeing it now.

She smiles at him again right before they follow behind the bride and groom and Tom and the other bridesmaid, some old friend of Mary’s from her university days. If he hadn’t been able to picture himself getting married before Fanny had said something the other day, he would have walking her down the aisle.

He gets to meet her family--her mother and father and collection of siblings--though her mother insists that he consider himself ‘one of the family’ now as well. Her father is somewhat loud and brash; the whole group of them seem to exist in a state of mutual chaos. He can’t imagine Fanny being with them, let alone being their child. He wonders why she was brought up here, instead of with her parents and siblings. He almost asks before stopping himself. It’s a question, he knows, best saved for later.

Fanny calls a girl over, quickly and happily introducing her to him as, “My sister Susan.”

“Susan,” he greets, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“And I’ve heard a lot about you, Henry Crawford,” she says with an easy, almost infectious laugh.

He can’t laugh now, though. His gaze darts to Fanny, Fanny who is already turning her face away, but he can see the deep red on her face. She’s talked about him with her sister. He wants to shout for joy. Of course, that’s assuming she’s shared _good_ things about him with her sister, but he feels unexpectedly hopeful today.

“Where are my two nieces?” he vaguely hears Fanny’s mother ask.

“Julia’s stuck on a movie set with her husband,” Fanny explains, turning to her mother. “And Maria couldn’t get away from work. There’ll be another reception after Edmund and Mary get back from their honeymoon.”

Henry doesn’t really pay attention to much else that is said, happy to stand next to Fanny and answer any questions directed his way until his sister comes over to find them.

“I’m sorry to steal them away,” she says to Fanny’s parents, “but it’s time for the bridal party to open up the dancing.”

Edmund and Mary start the dancing, of course, but before long Henry gets to take Fanny in his arms.

* * *

She knows it’s irrational and no one is paying any attention to her on today of all days, but still, she feels like everyone is watching her. She’s grateful that Henry, at least is an excellent dancer.

Fanny keeps her eyes fixed on his tie as they dance. He’s quiet for a minute, but finally she hears him clear his throat softly. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks, and she darts a quick look up at his chin.

She nods. Especially now, she thinks and doesn’t say. A few more turns and she finally looks up at him. Swallows. “Are you going back to London after the wedding?” She’d spent the night before turning the thought over and over in her mind.

Henry’s hands tighten briefly before relaxing once more. “I thought I might stay a little while longer. I inherited my father’s company, and I’m not really needed. I’ve been doing my work from here for the past couple of weeks, and it’s run fairly smoothly.”

For a second, she wants to ask if he’s staying for her. But she can’t very well just come out and ask that. “Maybe...maybe you should go, just to check up on things.”

His face falls and then goes carefully blank. “Do you want me to go?”

“What? _No_ ,” she answers, panicking at how he’s misinterpreted her. “I don’t want you to go unless you have to. I really enjoy our conversations and everything. I just thought...well, is there a problem and that’s why you want to stay here?”

“No, no,” he reassures her, his expression becoming lighter. “I’ve never taken a huge interest in the business, and it runs without me. I just...like it here.”

Fanny enjoys the rest of the wedding more than she would have thought she would. She spends a lot of time with Susan, catching up in a way that they don’t always get to over the phone. Her brother William eventually shows up, sorry to have missed the ceremony, but she’s just glad he’s there to join their little group. And Henry...Henry keeps finding his way back to her. He goes off to talk to his and Mary’s old friends and relatives, and he goes off to dance with each of his sisters in turn...but he always seems to eventually find his way back to her side.

She’s pleased for reasons she’s not quite ready to address that he hits it off with William and Susan. She doesn’t want to think about why she’s happy that he likes the siblings that she’s closest to.

He asks her to dance again, later. It’s a slower song than the one they first danced to, and she presses as close to him as she dares. He makes her laugh a few times with witty stories about his various family members, pointing out the uncle who raised him and Mary in the crowd. The Admiral, as Henry calls him, is laughing boisterously with her father. Everyone else seems to be keeping a careful distance away from the two navy men, but they don’t seem to mind; she feels a smile light her face as she turns back to Henry.

“It’s good to know there’s someone for everyone,” she jokes.

His grip tightens on her hand, squeezing gently. “Yes,” he agrees seriously, “It is.”

* * *

Despite his words to Fanny, the day after the wedding he gets a call from one of the board members at the company he inherited. There’s some problem that needs him; he calls the cafe and leaves a message for Fanny promising to be back in a couple of days.

He’s hardly a useful presence in London; he tries, he really does, but all he can think about is Fanny.

There’d been a small part of him that had wondered--maybe even hoped--that a large part of what he felt had been proximity to her. He’s forced to really face the depth of his own feeling. He sees his old friends a couple of times while he’s in London, but it’s not the same as talking with Fanny. He finds himself comparing everyone to her.

He misses her, simple as that.

He doubts she misses him all that much, but still...he remembers the panic in her eyes when he’d asked if she wanted him to go. She hadn’t. She...enjoyed their conversations.

Henry comes to a decision. When he gets back, he’s going to ask her out and let the pieces fall where they may.

* * *

To say she’s shocked by the news would be an understatement. But perhaps _shocked_ isn’t the right word. She’s hurt--devastated--by the article her father emails to her, asking if that’s the boy he’d met at the party.

There it is. Emblazoned in bold letters that seem to pierce her heart.

_Maria Bertram spotted leaving the offices of Henry Crawford! Could a relationship be brewing between the famous playwright and the casting agent?_

No, she wants to scream, the romance is _supposed_ to be brewing between Henry and her.

She calls Susan. “I told you,” she says without preamble. “I told you he hadn’t changed.”

“Fanny,” Susan soothes, “it’s a paparazzi piece. You can’t know if it’s the truth or not.”

She breathes deeply through her nose, fighting back the tears that she’s felt since she first read the article. “Why not? It makes sense. He always liked her.”

“He’s in love with you, Fanny.”

“What? No, no he’s not, Sue.”

“ _Yes,_ he is. I saw the way he looked at you at the wedding. At least talk to him before you jump to conclusions.”

“I--oh my god,” she stops talking when the door to her back office opens slowly, cautiously to reveal Henry. She clutches the phone against her ear. “What’re you doing here?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t---nothing happened between me and Maria. You have to know that. She did come to my office, but it was to talk about casting for her next play. That’s all that happened. Please--please don’t think it was anything more.”

“Fanny, is that Henry? Talk to him--”

Her own words cuts her sister off. “Why does it matter if I think it was anything more? We’re not together.”

He looks crestfallen. “I want to be together. I don’t want this to ruin my chance for us to be together. Someday. Whenever you want--”

“I’ll call you later, Sue,” she hangs up over her sister’s protests, setting the phone down.

Henry breathes heavily, running a hand through his hair. “I would never--god, I would never do that again. Not when I--” he cuts himself off, bringing a fist up to his mouth and closing his eyes.

“Not when you what, Henry?”

“Fanny--”

“Tell me,” she pleads in a whisper.

He opens his eyes, looking at her helplessly. “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Then she’s moving across the room, cupping his cheek in a hand. She breathes, swallows, closes her eyes. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

She nods, smiling. “I want to be together too. I love you, Henry.”

There’s no need for more words for a while. He leans down and she leans up and their lips touch. And she lets herself love him.

* * *

Seeing his Fanny walk down the aisle to him on her father’s arm feels even more right than it had felt walking up and down the aisle with her at Mary and Edmund’s wedding. She’s resplendent in her wedding dress. He’s impatient to marry her, kissing her when the veil is pulled back from her face, barely hearing the soft laughter of their audience. He pulls back; she smiles at him, tilting her head towards her cousin, waiting to marry them.

“I love you,” he mouths, taking her hand. She smiles again, answering him in kind.

Holding her in his arms later, dancing with her once more, he can’t believe this started with a coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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